Welcome to Sunday Snog, this week a smooch from my story Spicing it Up which features in the fabulous new Over the Knee anthology.
A little sigh of relief escaped Cassandra’s lips as the front door shut. The part of her ordeal that could have been hugely embarrassing in front of their guests was over. That was something, at least. But now she had to face Sir, and take whatever her punishment was if there was a mark on her dress.
“Cass,” he said, clicking the deadlock on the solid oak door. “How do you think you’ve done?”
“What do you mean, Sir?”
“With your dress?”
“I… I don’t know, Sir.” She ran her hands over the flare of her hips and curled her toes on the floor. She glanced down at them. Damn it, she could feel slickness on her inner thighs now.
“Well, we’ll take a look in a minute. But first I want you on your knees.”
“Yes, Sir.” She nodded and dropped to the floor. The hall rug was soft and warm on her skin. She angled her heels so she wasn’t pressing her dress over her pussy and put her hands behind her back. She stared at the carpet—this was the way he liked her to be when on the ground.
His shadow, shaped by a table lamp next to the bedroom door, stretched across the floor. His outline was long and stretched, and the low lighting elongated his legs and his body so much so that his head was out of her view.
Her breath quickened as she saw his shadow fiddle with his belt buckle. The long leather slid from the loops of his jeans then hung snake-like in his hand, the end trailing on the floor.
Was he going to beat her ass with the belt? It hadn’t been what she’d expected but she’d take it, to please him.
The belt fell to the floor, coiling over itself.
He stepped up to her, his feet still encased in neat black shoes. If it had been lighter she would have been able to see her reflection in them. Sir was meticulous about polishing his footwear. It was one of his things.
The soft sound of his fly undoing told her what was going to happen. Her mouth watered—this was her kind of dessert.
“Open,” he said, gripping the mass of curls on the top of her head and forcing her to look up at him. “Open up for your Master.”
She did as he’d asked, stretching her mouth so wide the joints at the top of her jaw ached. He had a gorgeous big cock and she had to work to take him, whichever hole he decided to use.
“Ah, yeah…” he said, holding his shaft and rubbing the tip of his cock on her bottom lip. “All evening I’ve been watching your mouth, when you speak, when you eat, when you smile. I just wanted to possess it, make it mine, have my cock buried so deeeeep…”
As he’d said the last word he’d slipped in, the flare of his glans traveling over her tongue.
Cassandra stared up at his face as he filled her mouth up with him. She always adored seeing his expression as he entered her body. It was desperation, bliss, control and darkness all wrapped up in one erotic look that turned her the hell on. If it was the last thing she ever saw she’d be happy.
“Oh, fuck yeah…” he said, his cock tip touching the back of her mouth. He never rammed down her throat—he knew she didn’t like that—he rode in just as much as she could take before her gag reflex kicked in.
She hugged the base of his shaft with her tongue, wrapping around the hard flesh.
“Ahh…” he gasped, his grip on her hair tightening. “Yes, like that…”
She rippled her tongue and created a slight suction.
He shut his eyes, withdrew then slid back in.
Cassandra couldn’t move her head. He had it in a firm hold. But she trusted him to get the depth just right, and held her breath as he sank to the max. Again.
He tasted divine, the best flavor of the evening—salt and sweet, spicy and male. She loved Sir’s taste, enjoyed nothing more than having it on her tongue when she went to sleep.
“Cass, fucking hell, sub, I’m going to… Yeah, like that…” He gripped her hair tighter.
The longing in his voice, oh, it was so good. Her pussy clenched and her clit swelled. She itched to touch him, grab his ass, his balls, rub her hands on his hair-coated belly and stroke his root. But that was forbidden unless given specific instructions, so instead she took what he gave. Allowed him to fuck her mouth, take what he needed from her.
Pre-cum leaked onto her tongue, rich and thick, and she knew he was close. His shaft swelled, swelling her cheeks. He sank deeper.
She held her breath.
This was it.
“Ah fucking hell…” he said then groaned as his first wave of release flooded her mouth. He pulled back, thrust in again.
Cassandra toppled slightly.
He held her up, one hand in her hair, the other beneath her chin.
She was his vessel for pleasure. That feeling, that moment of being claimed, owned, of him giving up his absolute control over everything, thrilled her utterly. She loved that split second of time when he knew only her, thought of nothing but her.
More cum coated the base of her tongue, and she swallowed it down.
He slowed. A long, low moan vibrated through his body and she felt it in his cock. His control returned.
“Good girl,” he said breathlessly. “You’re so damn good at that.”
Unable to speak, she batted her eyelashes. She didn’t think she was particularly good at blow jobs, she just opened her mouth and let him do what he wanted to do. She was simply a tool for him to get off on.
Except she knew there was much more to it than that, even if the thought of being just a female body to be used did stoke her darkest fantasies.
He released his grip on her hair. Several tendrils made a bid for freedom and hung over her face, her ears and down her neck.
“Oh, I am sorry,” he said, pulling his cock from her mouth. “I seem to have made you look rather disheveled, Cass.”
He didn’t look sorry in the least. In fact, his gaze seemed to take in her now scrappy appearance as though it delighted him. But then he did like to see her messy, her neat work persona as far removed as it could be.
Grab your copy of Over the Knee from Totally Bound, Amazon, Amazon UK, ARe and all other good retailers - available in ebook and paperback. My story, Spicing it Up will be available as an individual ebook on the 24th of November.